Free Spectre of the Sword by Kathryn Le Veque Page A
Authors: Kathryn Le Veque
mêlée. By this time, Elizabeau dared to
peer above the edge of the table to watch the fighting. As David crouched next
to her, one hand holding his sword and the other stabilizing the spine of the
arrow as it jutted from his flesh, they watched the battle unfold.
Rhys didn’t wait to be
invited into the skirmish. He went straight for the man battling the earl and
in two clean strokes, gutted the man. It was a brutal move designed to kill,
and Elizabeau’s eyes opened wide at the sight. With one man down, Rhys turned for
the other five that were engaging the earl’s men and plowed into them with
unearthly ferocity. It wasn’t that he was a better fighter than the earl and
his men; it was simply that he was fearless and strong as an ox. While the
enemy was distracted with the earl and his knights, Rhys moved through them
like God smiting sinners. They barely saw him coming before their lives were
at an end. It was an amazing sight to behold.
Two of the remaining
enemy men bolted outside when they saw that they were alone in their battle
against the earl’s men. Rhys, the earl and another of the earl’s knights
followed them. One knight remained behind in case there were more foes lurking
in the inn. With the room suddenly quiet but for the groaning of the dying,
David and Elizabeau rose from their protected position.
“Edward,” David moved
towards the remaining knight, surveying the carnage around him. “How many more
are there?”
The tall, dark knight
with the golden eyes shook his head. “We counted at least twelve,” he sighed
heavily, gaze finding Elizabeau. “We had hoped they had not followed us this
far but I see we were wrong. God knows, they seem to find us every time. The
lady is in astounding danger, David. We must remove her immediately.”
David nodded, looking at
the rather pale lady beside him and remembering his manners. “Edward, this is
the Lady Elizabeau Treveighan,” he said. “I do not believe you have been
formally introduced yet. My lady, this is Sir Edward de Wolfe. He serves my
brother.”
Elizabeau nodded at Edward
as the knight bowed gallantly. She was, in fact, feeling the least bit queasy,
both with fear and with the gore surrounding her. But in spite of her shock,
she noticed that David was struggling with the arrow in shoulder and she gently
suggested that he sit so that they could remove the arrow. He refused, twice,
until Edward finally forced him to sit. While Elizabeau gingerly held on to
him, Edward yanked the arrow from the man’s shoulder.
Edward tossed the arrow
to the floor as he examined the wound; it was clean and not too terribly deep.
David didn’t seem to think anything of it and was demanding to find his brother
to help in the hunt for more enemy soldiers. Edward, a calm man with a
diplomatic air about him, refused to let the man rise and just as Elizabeau was
sure they were going to enter into a physical confrontation, the earl, Rhys and
another knight returned to the common room.
Elizabeau realized, very
quickly, that she was happy and relieved to see Rhys. He appeared unharmed in
spite of the vicious sword battle she had witnessed. His gaze fell on her as he
moved towards her.
“Are you all right?” he
asked quietly. “You weren’t injured in any way?”
She shook her head,
resisting the urge to smile at him. “I am well,” she gestured at David, still
sitting on the chair next to her. “But Sir David was injured. Sir Edward
removed the arrow.”
Rhys peered more closely
at David, attempting to gain a look at his wound, but David waved him off. “A
scratch,” he declared irritably. “A tickle, in fact. But this old woman will
not let me go about my business.”
He was referring to
Edward, who merely lifted an eyebrow at him. “It needs to be sutured,” he
said.
“Bah,” David stood up,
hand over the wound as he timidly rotated the shoulder. “It is well enough.
I’ll live.”
While David and
peer above the edge of the table to watch the fighting. As David crouched next
to her, one hand holding his sword and the other stabilizing the spine of the
arrow as it jutted from his flesh, they watched the battle unfold.
Rhys didn’t wait to be
invited into the skirmish. He went straight for the man battling the earl and
in two clean strokes, gutted the man. It was a brutal move designed to kill,
and Elizabeau’s eyes opened wide at the sight. With one man down, Rhys turned for
the other five that were engaging the earl’s men and plowed into them with
unearthly ferocity. It wasn’t that he was a better fighter than the earl and
his men; it was simply that he was fearless and strong as an ox. While the
enemy was distracted with the earl and his knights, Rhys moved through them
like God smiting sinners. They barely saw him coming before their lives were
at an end. It was an amazing sight to behold.
Two of the remaining
enemy men bolted outside when they saw that they were alone in their battle
against the earl’s men. Rhys, the earl and another of the earl’s knights
followed them. One knight remained behind in case there were more foes lurking
in the inn. With the room suddenly quiet but for the groaning of the dying,
David and Elizabeau rose from their protected position.
“Edward,” David moved
towards the remaining knight, surveying the carnage around him. “How many more
are there?”
The tall, dark knight
with the golden eyes shook his head. “We counted at least twelve,” he sighed
heavily, gaze finding Elizabeau. “We had hoped they had not followed us this
far but I see we were wrong. God knows, they seem to find us every time. The
lady is in astounding danger, David. We must remove her immediately.”
David nodded, looking at
the rather pale lady beside him and remembering his manners. “Edward, this is
the Lady Elizabeau Treveighan,” he said. “I do not believe you have been
formally introduced yet. My lady, this is Sir Edward de Wolfe. He serves my
brother.”
Elizabeau nodded at Edward
as the knight bowed gallantly. She was, in fact, feeling the least bit queasy,
both with fear and with the gore surrounding her. But in spite of her shock,
she noticed that David was struggling with the arrow in shoulder and she gently
suggested that he sit so that they could remove the arrow. He refused, twice,
until Edward finally forced him to sit. While Elizabeau gingerly held on to
him, Edward yanked the arrow from the man’s shoulder.
Edward tossed the arrow
to the floor as he examined the wound; it was clean and not too terribly deep.
David didn’t seem to think anything of it and was demanding to find his brother
to help in the hunt for more enemy soldiers. Edward, a calm man with a
diplomatic air about him, refused to let the man rise and just as Elizabeau was
sure they were going to enter into a physical confrontation, the earl, Rhys and
another knight returned to the common room.
Elizabeau realized, very
quickly, that she was happy and relieved to see Rhys. He appeared unharmed in
spite of the vicious sword battle she had witnessed. His gaze fell on her as he
moved towards her.
“Are you all right?” he
asked quietly. “You weren’t injured in any way?”
She shook her head,
resisting the urge to smile at him. “I am well,” she gestured at David, still
sitting on the chair next to her. “But Sir David was injured. Sir Edward
removed the arrow.”
Rhys peered more closely
at David, attempting to gain a look at his wound, but David waved him off. “A
scratch,” he declared irritably. “A tickle, in fact. But this old woman will
not let me go about my business.”
He was referring to
Edward, who merely lifted an eyebrow at him. “It needs to be sutured,” he
said.
“Bah,” David stood up,
hand over the wound as he timidly rotated the shoulder. “It is well enough.
I’ll live.”
While David and